Strange Things
by whatsagoku
Summary: Curdie is about to discover that he has a lot more to fear than just goblins in the castle. Warning: mature themes and extreme OOCness.


Title: Strange Things

Author: whatsagoku

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with George MacDonald, Strahan & Co., S4C, or Siriol studio.

Blindfolded and with his arms and legs bound, the King was hardly the picture of a fearless leader. But he had as much to gain from these little "sessions" as did Looti. Pillow-fluffer by day, ye olde dominatrix by night; Looti wasted no time. She was a terrifying sight in her full dominatrix gear, complete with thigh-high leather boots. "Are you ready, little Kingy?"

"Oh yes."

"What?"

"Oh yes, _milady_."

"That's right, you tubby little wanker." She marched toward her prey, bearing a whip in one hand and a disgusting sweaty and stained sock in the other. Roughly she shoved the horrible rag into his mouth. She then stood over her the bound man, lifting the whip over her head as she did so. Fun time!

_CRACK._

"Ow!"

"Strange things!"

_CRACK._

"M-more!"

"You never know when they might happen!"

_CRACK. CRACK. CRACK._

Our long-suffering hero Curdie started down the winding staircase that would take him to the dungeon. He silently bemoaned his fate. He had been sent there by his perpetually cheery princess, who mentally was floating on an eternal cloud of rainbow sprinkles and chocolate gumdrops. He had been asked to fetch something from the kitchen, but had decided to take a detour into the dungeon to put off returning to her god-awful endless perkiness. With any luck he would run into that hideous hellcat, Cucumber or Pumpkin or whatever the heck its name was, and he could let out some of his aggravation through a well-aimed kick. Had he been paying attention to his surroundings, and not been losing himself in thoughts of murdering a certain feline, he might have heard the faint cracks growing louder as he neared the dungeon, but thick stone walls muffled the noise effectively, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

_Stupid brain-damaged princess and her fairy godmother. 'Oh don't worry, this magic lampshade from my grandmother will save us!' Honestly, if that's the future leader of the nation, we're all in serious trouble._ He reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed the door open.

"Wha‒"

Curdie stepped into the room just in time for Looti's whip to smack him straight across the eyes. He fell back screaming with his hands pressed against his face, but blood poured from between his fingers.

"My eyes! Oh god, I'm blind!"

Looti turned in surprise. The King turned his head toward the noise: "Mmmf?!"

Looti stared down at the boy writhing in pain on the floor, the whip hanging loosely from her hand. She took a step forward, paused as though to reconsider, then stepped again and knelt down before the moaning child. She raised a hand and pulled Curdie's arm down so that his hand was pulled away from his face, revealing one of his newly-mangled eyes. Ignoring his anguished cry of protest, she reached up and with her fingertips touched the blood that flowed from the atrocious wound. Unseen by either Curdie or the King behind her ("Mmmf?"), she brought the bloodied fingers to her lips and gave them a tentative taste. For a moment she was silent, contemplative. Then‒

"Strange things." It was barely above a whisper. Looti stood up and gripped her whip with a renewed strength. Her eyes glinted with a suddenly animalistic glee.

_CRACK._

"Aahh! Looti?!"

"STRANGE‒"

_CRACK._

"Stop! What the hell are y‒"

_CRACK._

THINGS!"

As the fourth crack sounded across the small room, Irene appeared in the doorway. Looti paused; after all, Irene was very dear to her, and as much as she loved her (ahem) hobbie, she knew that Irene possessed very delicate sensibilities. She remained frozen, whip-arm in mid-air.

Irena was silent for a moment as she took in the bleeding Curdie, gasping in pain at her feet, her beloved nurse Looti, decked out in essentially leather straps, and her father, bound and gagged across the room ("Mmmf!").

When Irene spoke, her voice was quiet.

"Is this...is it a game?"

Silence.

"Oh I do love games!" She clapped her hands in delight and began to jump up and down. "Please let me play! Oh please!"

Curdie turned to face her, and even with the entirety of his face sliced and gushing with blood, he still managed to give her a deadpan stare.

Irene looked at the two adults. "Ooh, dress-up! Father looks just like a roast pig with an apple in his mouth! Father, is that what you're supposed to be? And Looti, what costume is that? It looks like pieces of a saddle...oh! Are you supposed to be a horse? That's wonderful! Horses are so lovely..."

She babbled happily to herself until she looked down at her bleeding friend.

"I'm sorry, Curdie...I can't guess what you're playing as..." For a moment she sounded as though she were about to cry, and briefly Curdie was thankful for his blindness because it meant he didn't have to see her tearing eyes and quivering lower lip. But then he heard her voice perk up.

"It's all right! Grandmother gave me a magic tiara! You can wear that and be a princess like me, Curdie!"

"Go die."

"But Curdie‒"

"Go die. Right now."

Curdie lowered his head to rest it against the stone floor. The cool stone felt good against his pounding head. Oblivious to his smoldering rage, Irene chattered on.

"I've got a magic fuzzy hat from my grandmother, too. Maybe you can wear that and pretend to be a thief! Or my magic cuckoo clock! Or my‒"

"Princess Irene," Looti stepped forward. "This is a special game for grown-ups." She spared a glance at Curdie and reluctantly said "Why don't you run along and have some tea with Turnip?_"_

Irene smiled. "Okay! Come on, Curdie! Let's go have a tea-party with Turnip! We'll pretend to be a lovely little family, with me as the mother, and you as the father, of course, and Turnip can be our precious little‒"

"I'm BLIND, you half-wit."

"That's all right! Grandmother gave me magic eyeglasses, and‒"

Curdie lunged away from the princess and clutched at Looti's legs. "Don't let her take me! I can't take anymore of her grandmother's knick-knacks!"

Irene looked hurt. "But Grandmother always watches over us..."

Curdie woudn't hear it. "NO. No more magic combs or pencaps or microwaves or ANYTHING. Not even a magic TWIG, do you hear me, woman?! Get me a DOCTOR."

"Oh all right, if that's what you really want. Grandmother did warn me that boys tend to get very strange about certain things. I'll be back soon, and then we'll play together!" She skipped happily out of the room and up the stairs, and as her gleeful humming faded away Curdie collapsed against the floor again and allowed himself to moan in agony. _ I'll never be rid of her, never. Not her nor any of the nutcases in this loonybin. Somebody kill me please..._

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice that pierced his very soul with mind-numbing terror.

Looti smirked. "Let's get back to business, shall we?"


End file.
